All the Single Ladies (37 page)

Mum’s face is devoid of colour, but it has a veil of calm as she stares at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘I know. So am I.’

Julia shakes her head, looking as if every breath has been sucked from her.

‘You’re my birth mother?’

My heart is hammering so fast I can barely concentrate on anything else.

Mum puts her head in her hands briefly, then looks up and composes herself. ‘I am, sweetheart. And I know I’ve got a lot of explaining to do.’

Julia is clearly failing to comprehend any of this. She’s not alone. Mum needs to start talking.

‘Gary already told you the outline of the events, and that, essentially, is it. He told the truth. Your dad and I had met a few years earlier and fell totally in love. But we had . . . a
rough patch. At the time, I thought we’d never recover from it.’

‘What happened?’ I splutter.

She takes a deep breath. ‘Our first years as a married couple were no honeymoon period. So much went wrong, particularly in that third year. Your dad’s father died. He lost his job.
In the event, he was out of work for only a short period, but at the time it was horrendous. Plus, as you already know, I had five miscarriages.’

‘Which was why you adopted Julia,’ I mutter. ‘Or we thought you’d adopted Julia.’

Mum swallows. ‘I can’t tell you what that was like – with the babies, I mean. Every time we got our hopes up that this was it . . . this was the child we desperately wanted . .
. I lost it. My job meant I was always delivering other people’s babies so, every time we experienced it again, the pressure, the pain – it was unbearable. I was six months pregnant
with the last baby. The grief was indescribable . . .’ She shudders and her voice trails off before she continues. ‘We’d been together for four years and the pressure got to us.
Badly. And, well, we decided we needed to be apart for some time. Your dad was convinced that the worry about him losing his job had contributed to me losing the last baby. Six months was the
furthest along I’d ever got.’ She shakes her head. ‘That was ridiculous, of course. But the point is that neither of us was in a good place.’

‘So Dad left you?’

‘We both agreed that splitting up was the best thing to do. The thing is that sometimes, when difficult things happen, relationships get stronger. But we were young and . . . we
didn’t know how to handle it.’

Julia and I can’t speak as we take all this in.

‘He was – and always has been – the love of my life,’ Mum tells us. ‘And although I thought having some time apart was the right thing to do, equally I
couldn’t cope with the idea of not spending the rest of my life with him. It was a mess. I decided to make a clean break.’

‘You went to London, like Gary said,’ Julia offers.

Mum nods. ‘My parents were, obviously, completely against the whole thing. Well, you know what they were like, Grandma Milly in particular. I was a married woman, for goodness’ sake.
It was a difficult time. I got a job in a maternity hospital, which some people thought I was mad to do, given what I’d been going through with the miscarriages, but that was my vocation.
I’d always been a midwife; I didn’t know anything else. Not that I can deny I was as miserable as sin. I was lonely. And I desperately missed your father. That’s when I met
Gary.’

Julia swallows. ‘I see.’

Mum squirms. ‘He was living in the same street where I was renting a room and we became friends. That was all. But, one night, we got talking about what had gone on between Frank and me. I
got upset and . . . I don’t know, I felt in need of human contact, I suppose. That night it turned out to be more than that. You don’t need me to spell it out. I . . . I made a
mistake.’ She looks at her hands. ‘It happened only once and we agreed to put the whole thing behind us. My feelings for him were nothing like those I had for your father. I
couldn’t have started a relationship with him; I was still in love with someone else. With Frank.’

‘So when did you get back together with Dad?’ I ask.

‘Four days later, I got home from work to find your dad waiting on the doorstep. He’d got another job. He’d wanted me back all along but had been determined to get work before
he approached me. There was simply no other man for me.’

‘So you moved back up north straight away?’ I ask.

‘Yes. Gary and I promised to stay in touch, but things were awkward. Then . . . well, life threw us a googly.’

‘You found out you were pregnant?’ Julia asks.

Mum nods. ‘I didn’t start showing until I was about seven months gone. It was the same ten years later with you, Sam.’

‘But how did you know it wasn’t Dad’s child?’

‘I didn’t,’ shrugs Mum. ‘I hoped it was. But the timing was such that it could as easily be Gary’s. And given Gary’s beautiful, chocolate-brown skin, it was
going to be immediately apparent if the baby turned out to be his. I couldn’t risk your dad discovering everything in the labour room like that. I had to tell him.’

Neither Julia nor I can move; we’re stunned.

‘And he never doubted he wanted to stay with you – even though you were possibly carrying another man’s child?’ I ask.

Mum looks at me with glassy eyes. ‘Never. That didn’t stop us both being shell-shocked, of course. We didn’t know what to do. The thought of how this would go down with my
family . . . Well, can you imagine? It would have been impossible. So I went to stay with Great-Aunt Maggie – Grandma Milly’s sister – until I gave birth. She lived in Colwyn Bay.
What is it, Julia?’

‘Nothing,’ she says, shaking her head dismissively. ‘Gary mentioned some sort of Welsh connection, that’s all.’

‘Well, Maggie kept the secret for me,’ Mum says. ‘I told everyone I was working in London again. My hope, of course, was that I’d give birth to the baby and it’d
turn out to be your dad’s. We didn’t have a plan about what to say to people; we were making it up as we went along.’

‘But it didn’t turn out to be his,’ Julia says numbly. ‘It turned out to be Gary’s. You must have had to make a plan, then?’

‘We decided . . .’ Mum swallows and a tear streams down her cheek. ‘We decided that all we could do was to have you adopted. To do with you exactly as you thought did
happen.’

‘Why didn’t you?’ Julia whispers.

Mum shakes her head. ‘Because when I held your tiny body in my arms in that labour ward, everything changed.’ Her expression is a strange combination of elation and pain. ‘You
were beautiful. I see babies every day, but I’d never seen one as beautiful as you. You were a gorgeous, tiny, healthy baby with a rosebud mouth and fingers that curled around mine as if you
were saying to me: “Mummy, I’m yours. You can’t let me go.” And you know what, Julia? I couldn’t. I absolutely couldn’t. Frank couldn’t either. I promise
you, Julia, that even if keeping you had meant my own mother and father would never have spoken to me again, then that’s what I would have done. Without question. However . . .’

‘Yes?’ says Julia.

Mum takes a deep breath. ‘Grandma Milly was in frail health. She’d had a bout of pneumonia and I was worried sick that she wasn’t going to survive it. In the event, she
recovered and lived another ten years, but at the time that looked very unlikely. The last thing I wanted was to inflict more drama on her. As unreasonable as her prejudices were. So I came up with
an idea that I knew could solve everything.’

‘To tell everyone that Julia was adopted,’ I say.

Mum nods. ‘My story was that a woman at the adoption agency – who I knew through work – had told me about you and, when I saw you, I had an overwhelming urge to look after you.
Particularly since your dad and I had had trouble conceiving, which Grandma Milly knew all about.’

‘And everyone believed it?’ I ask.

‘Why wouldn’t they? I simply told them Julia had faced an uncertain future otherwise and, having worked with babies all my life, I couldn’t let that happen. Everyone accepted
it.’ She turns to Julia. ‘I was desperate to keep you. It seemed like the only option.’

Julia frowns, shaking her head. ‘But that was then. That was thirty-eight years ago. Why wouldn’t you have told the truth since? I don’t understand.’

Mum swallows. ‘The more time that passed, the more I thought that announcing to everyone the reality of the situation would either kill my mother with shock, or make everyone think I
needed carting away by men in white coats.’ She scrunches up her forehead. ‘It was more than that, though. It just . . . ceased to become an issue, all by itself somehow. None of us
ever really thought about it. I mean, you don’t, do you? You just get on with life.’

She swallows and bites the nail on her thumb. ‘Plus, whenever we did talk about it, Julia, you were so fixed in your view that biology was irrelevant. That you didn’t give two hoots
about finding your birth mother. That I was your mum, no matter what happened. So I convinced myself it wasn’t an issue. I convinced myself – and Frank – that knowing the truth
wasn’t that important to you.’

She pauses and looks at her hands. ‘I was kidding myself. Of course, I was. I was taking the easy option. Plus, I was ashamed of what I’d done. I felt, very early on, that I should
have stood up to my mother and said, “I don’t care what you think. This is my daughter and I’m proud of her.” Because –’ she looks at Julia – ‘I am,
you know. I’m so very proud of you.’

Julia kneels down on the floor and rests her head in Mum’s lap. Mum strokes Julia’s skin, wiping away her tears.

‘I know you are, Mum,’ Julia says. ‘I know.’

I am experiencing what I can only describe as emotion overload. And information overload. And . . . just overload.

There are only so many revelations I can cope with in twenty-four hours, and the facts that my Jamie cheated on me, and that Ben is ‘in a relationship’, are now the least of them.
The idea that Mum and Dad have experienced more melodrama than in an
EastEnders
special . . . I don’t know how to begin taking that in.

It must be even harder for Julia. She’s at the heart of this matter; she’s the one who’s lived with this bizarre lie, albeit obliviously. Mum says she’s got a right to be
angry, and I think there’s a small part of Julia, and indeed of me too, that is.

But, most of all, it feels like a missing piece of the jigsaw has been found – and effortlessly slotted in. Part of me thinks: Wow . . . Julia’s my sister! Another part thinks: And?
. . . She always has been, shared gene pool or not.

When I wake the next morning, it’s to the beep of a text message from Jen.

I hit call, but she must be on an early shift because it goes straight to voicemail, so I leave a message: ‘Hey, Jen – got your text. Hope everything’s okay.
There’s been a bit of drama round here too, actually. Come round tonight and we’ll have a good chat. Keep your chin up, sweetheart.’

It’s advice I feel totally incapable of following myself. My feelings about my family are one thing; those about Jamie – and Ben, for that matter – are entirely another. I
consider throwing a sickie for the first time in my life, but decide against it: I’ve got a hell of a lot to think about, but I don’t really want to think any more. I’ve done
nothing but think since Jamie left.

‘Right, my luvs. Give it to me straight,’ Lorelei demands. ‘Have we got Coleen or not?’

There are five days until the Teen SOS centenary event and I’m counting the minutes until it’s all over.

I take a deep breath. ‘Coleen unfortunately isn’t able to come, but we have a number of celebrities.’

This is not just stretching the truth; it’s coating the truth in Lycra and pulling it until it’s barely visible to the naked eye. The best I’ve managed to do are four members
of the
Hollyoaks
cast, a handful of minor WAGs and Fern Britton’s make-up artist.

As I break this to Lorelei, I’m convinced I can hear steam whistling out of her ears.

‘There are plenty of others who will add value.’ I decide against telling her about Rusty Lee. ‘Such as local DJ Sullivan Price – oh, and Dr Darren Bosco.’

‘Doctor . . . who?’

‘Dr Darren Bosco,’ I repeat, wishing I hadn’t mentioned him. He’s the medical expert on a local radio station and is about as A-list as my dad.

‘Ooh,’ she says, sounding surprisingly upbeat. ‘Ooooh.’

‘Ooh?’ I repeat.

‘Ooooh, yesss. I like him.’

‘Really?’

‘Always been a fan. Can you get me an introduction?’

‘Of course!’ I reply, wishing I’d known it would be this straightforward.

The rest of the day is a blur. Deana and Natalie are as helpful as ever and, frankly, nothing at all would get done if Anna, the work-experience girl (who’s more productive than the two of
them together), wasn’t back. Still, emails are pinging into my inbox so rapidly my computer sounds like a Chemical Brothers remix and I can’t focus on work at all. I am instead
compelled to log on to Facebook and flick between Jamie’s page and Ben’s, looking for clues about what they’re both up to.

When the chat box appears, my heart thuds against my chest . . . until I realize it’s Luke.

I open my inbox and note that six emails have arrived in the last one and a half minutes. I flick back to Luke’s response.

I hit enter and wait for a response, wondering how much Jamie’s told him. And whether or not he knew about Dorrie.

I start composing a reply, saying I’m fine. But something makes me stop and stare at it. I delete the word ‘fine’ and replace it with ‘shit’. Then I delete that and
reinstate ‘fine’. Then I delete everything and simply gaze at the screen, not having a clue how to respond.